Grapes On a Silver Platter
by BoundLight
Summary: Drabble. A continuation of "The Third Man." A conversation I think Dean and Cas needed to have. Dean/Cas


They pulled into a motel. Dean couldn't help but smile; it was just like any other night before all this shit went straight to Hell. He could only laugh as Sam claimed his usual bed, letting the familiarity of the situation wash away all of his doubts.

He closed his eyes as he curled beneath the thin blankets that came standard in all run down motels and rolled over, stretching luxuriously in the pleasure that comes only when knowing your life is finally making sense again, but for some reason sleep would not come to him. He looked across the room, and watched Sam breathe calmly, already fast asleep.

Dean sighed and stood up, dressing quickly. He quietly made his way over to the small mini-fridge and pulled out a beer; then he turned and headed outside. Yeah. Just as usual. He shook his head as he popped the cap, realizing he'd have to take all the old bad along with the good.

Dean hopped up on to the Impala's hood and leaned back, watching the stars, drinking silently. The peace and quiet of the situation soothed his soul, and for the first time in days he felt like he was home.

There was a rustling of wings behind him, and Castiel appeared.

Dean continued drinking, his eyes never leaving the sky. He blinked when Castiel leaned into his line of sight.

Dean swallowed and finally looked at the angel. "Cas… can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Dean."

"Those people… those people Sam was hunting with… are they really my…my family?"

Castiel frowned. "I do not know, Dean."

"But you're an angel! Shouldn't you know everything?"

Castiel smiled patiently. "I'm not omniscient, Dean."

Dean shook his head and drained his beer. He contemplated the bottle and began picking at the label. "What about Sam? Do you know if he's… I mean, he's just been so different lately. Do you know if he… I mean if he's still…" Dean swallowed, not sure if he really wanted to know. He closed his eyes; he _needed_ to know, he _needed_ to. He grimaced and forced out the words. "Is he still Lucifer?"

Castiel drew back slightly, and for a moment wished he was a better liar. After what seemed like an eternity he spoke. "I… do not know." He said, haltingly.

Dean raised an eyebrow, silently demanding more.

Castiel quickly dropped his eyes, and turned, stepping away. It was always hard keeping things in perspective when he talked to Dean like this. When Dean looked at him so imploringly, and with such complete trust he found it hard not to simply drop to his knees and tell the hunter everything he knew. Castiel gazed up at the moon and reminded himself of his place in this universe, and of the place of the mortal behind him.

Dean touched his arm and moved to stand in front of him, claiming his gaze; it was all Castiel could do to refrain from singing of his glory. He tried to draw away, but Dean held him still.

Castiel worried his lip between his teeth and took a deep, unnecessary breath. "We share a bond, Dean." Castiel's hand reached up and brushed against the mark on Dean's shoulder. "I have a claim on your soul." Dean shivered and gazed into Castiel's ageless eyes. Castiel moved closer. "I have a hard time lying, Dean, especially to you, thanks to this mark." His hand pressed down firmly. "You can tell when I am misleading you."

Dean felt heat seeping out from Castiel's hand and into his very being, and suddenly he knew how Cas felt about everything. He could feel his angel's unease about this shared knowledge, but he pushed passed it and further into Castiel's subconscious, and found underneath his fear and his confusion, a small trail of lust.

Dean's pupils were blown wide and he leaned in, their lips close, so close. "Tell me about Sam," he murmured.

Castiel pushed nearer, their lips brushing with every word. "You are not weak, Dean. When you were in Hell your soul did not belong; it radiated purity in those dark pits, and it attracted all of the denizens of Hell to you, each looking to break you, and through this free Lucifer from his cage. Sam went to Hell as Lucifer's vessel, my brother still inside him. I'm sure they treated him like a king. But Dean, I don't know how he came back. I'm not sure where Lucifer is." Castiel pulled back. "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean nodded in understanding. "I guess we'll just have to figure it out." He ran a hand down Castiel's sleeve. "You did good." He fisted a hand in the angel's coat and drew him in, kissing him deeply. "I missed you, Cas."

"I missed you as well."

They moved to sit side by side on the hood of the Impala, pressed together, hands entwined, and talked quietly about the world and life, spending the evening just being together. They watched as the sun came up, neither wanting to leave the other.

As the world began to wake up, Castiel turned to Dean. "Sam will be waking up soon."

Dean frowned. "That doesn't mean you have to go."

Castiel smiled softly. "I will return, Dean. I promise."

"You better."

* * *

So…. Yeah. I went on this wild ranting spree about Lucifer and what Sam said at the end of The Third Man, and a friend finally said "Well, why not make a story about it?" And here it is.

I hope you enjoyed it… and if you did, review so I know that someone somewhere likes it. 3


End file.
